Left Alone
by GroovyViewbie
Summary: She apparently made his heart race and his palms sweat. It was icky and wonderful all in one and it was a feeling Claudia knew all too much about. But when a diagnosis shakes up his world, will the girl with the emerald eyes still make his stomach flip?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So because Jeff Davis is a plonk, the timing in Teen Wolf is confusing to me so I've taken a few liberties timeline wise. There will be Stydia in later chapters with mentions throughout but the first few chapters focus on Stilinski family feels. I am still working on At Last I See the Light but I've hit a bit of a wall so enjoy my other insipiration.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or Teen Wolf brand that is all Jeff's as if I owned it the timeline would make sense.

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"Honey we need to talk." Five words that every person dreads hearing, but none more than Stiles Stilinski.

It was his mother that greeted him on the playground that frosty December day, the young boy groaning as she lifted him in her arms and kissed his cheek. With quick hands and a grimace, he wiped away the 'gross icky red stuff' she insisted on wearing purely to torture him, insisting she lower him because Scott was watching and it wasn't cool to be kissed.

The car ride was as usual, Stiles talking excitedly about the games he and Scott had played, the things Miss Edison had taught him and finally the new girl. A girl. A subject he hadn't cared much for up to this point, which is why Claudia was so surprised by his desperation. Apparently this girl was different. She made his heart race and his palms sweat, not like the cooty filled creatures he usually played with. It was icky and wonderful all in one according to the second grader, a feeling Claudia was more than familiar with and one Stiles didn't understand yet.

"...And Jackson called her ginger and pulled her hair but I know it s'not, it's strawberry blonde." His words were rushed, stringing together and his excitement levels high when he thought of the pretty girl. "She reads big kid books, and she's really good at math. I wanna be friends with her but she's all gooey eyed over stupid Jackson." Even with his disdain for the situation, he was still excited.

That was until they got home, when he saw his dads cruiser on the driveway, something that only happened when he was let home early which usually meant one thing, he was hurt. Stiles stumbled forward, rushing into the house and running around the various rooms, looking for his dad, wanting to make sure he was okay, that his super hero dad wasn't hurt.

John could hear the commotion, seeing the relief in his sons eyes when he walked into the living room. He welcomed the boy into his arms, catching Claudia's eyes as she watched the two, whispering hellos and asking about school, all the while knowing what was coming, that the relief would be gone soon.

"Honey, we need to talk." Her voice was solemn, a tone unrecognizable from his mother. She was the one who would sneak him cupcakes when his father said no sweets, or would give him his favourite toy when he was on time out, she never used the stern tone on him, not ever. So as the words rang out around the room, he froze in his fathers arms.

"Talk about what mom? I cleaned my room like you said, and I apologised to Jackson for calling him names. Plus I took that test at the doctors. Did I fail it?" Taking note of the look between his mother and father, he gave a loud dramatic gulp, squirming as his mother took a seat on the other side of the young boy.

He was willing to curl into her light touch, feeling tears welling almost instantly as his mother hesitated, her own eyes full of unshed tears.

"Sweetie. You remember, when we took you to see the doctor? And mommy went to do a test while daddy stayed with you?" Claudia was greeted with a small nod from the eight year old, the boy already sniffling, waiting to be yelled at. "Well, mommy got her results, and mommy is really pretty poorly."

Just like that, Stiles' world changed. He was no longer about to be yelled at but he was facing something much, much worse. "Did the doctor give you a shot? What about Scotty? His mom can make you better right? She's a genius."

Claudia held her son tight, hating that she had to do this but they had agreed, no giving him false hope.

"There isn't a shot for this sweetheart, mommy isn't going to get better, but it's okay, we still have some time." The tears had spilled now, Claudia holding Stiles close as the essence of her grief spilled down, landing in his already messy hair. "It's okay baby, mommy will be here, it's okay."

They stayed like that for hours, Stiles sobbing into his mother's chest as her silent tears streaked her cheeks, John watching stone faced, wishing it wasn't happening, wishing his son didn't have to hear those words ever again. He had promised Claudia, no more pain their son would be happy and that meant staying strong, no matter how much it hurt.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: For those reading my other story At Last I See The Light (shameless self promotion) what I am aiming to do is alternate between stories and get one chapter out a week, alternating which story I post for each week. I have uni work to do so writing a chapter for both stories each week seems impossible to me right now but I will continue to write as much and as often as possible :) Thank you to xskymapx for the review, it means a lot. **

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When Stiles arrived at school a week later, everything was different. Teachers, who usually looked at him with anticipation for the next antic, would stare at him with pity in their eyes. Kids who'd usually poke him and call him freak were letting him win playground games, despite his terrible choices in hiding places. He was already tired of it, tired of being singled out because his mom was sick. The teachers had been told by his father, an attempt to keep Stiles' academic life on track. They gave him support he didn't ask for and forgave him for usually punishable offences.

The students had found out via nosey parents. They'd use phrases like 'that poor family' and wpuld warn their children 'to be nice to that Stilinski boy'. These were all things Stiles couldn't stand, wished they would just act normal around him.

So when the pretty redhead approached him at lunch, he was ready to scream. Even if she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, he didn't want her pity. In fact, that'd be the worst way he could imagine their friendship to start. Pity and apologies. The two things he just wanted to end but seemed to be a natural reaction to these people. Stiles was left constantly wondering why they were sorry. It's not like they made his mom sick, and their apologies weren't going to cure her. He concluded that sorry was a stupid meaningless word that was there so everyone else could feel better.

"Are you Stiles?" Her voice pulled him from his thoughts about his peers and he nodded in defeat, knowing this would be yet another apology. When he looked up to see her beautiful emerald eyes, he stared in confusion. Her eyes didn't hold pity, in fact the short genius looked almost bored. "Great. My mom said I had to invite you to my party. So here, no bringing your other loser friends, this is a sophisticated party." He noticed her stumbling on the big word but he didn't ask her about it, embarrassed about his own obliviousness to the meaning of the word anyway. Still, he couldn't help but smile, glad she wasn't treating him differently because of his situation. He watched her pink dress swish as she walked back to her table, the pitying looks forcing him to look away.

When he was back in class, he stuffed the envelope into his Spider-Man backpack, rushing to Scott's side with a grin. "Guess who is going to Lydia Martin's birthday party? Scotty I need help for a present though. I want something cool. You wanna come over after school to play Batman? Or we can plan the present? Or watch cartoons?" He'd been doing this a lot recently, thoughts skipping rapidly, unable to keep up with himself. The doctor had said it was something to do with his brain, and given him some medication that helped him concentrate. It was yet another thing that caused the looks, sorrow for the boy with a dying mother who took weird medicine.

Math had been boring, as it almost always was. The girl with waves in her hair and an Ariel backpack answering all questions with a bored glance and an air of superiority. So when class ended, he couldn't be happier, grabbing his backpack and rushing out to his mother.

Scott trailed behind much slower, his asthma much worse recently. By the time he'd reached his mother, Stiles was already in Claudia's arms, hugging his mother close.

"Mom can Scott come play? We have to pick a present for Lydia. I'm going to her party mom. I can go can't I? Please?" The bombardment of questions took a little while to absorb but once it registered, Claudia nodded leaving a lipstick trail on her son's cheek.

"Scott can come over, if it's okay with Melissa. And of course you can go to a party. Just remember to stick the invite on the fridge okay?" As she spoke, she saw a little redhaired girl strutting across the playground to a father too caught up in his BlackBerry to notice the picture she was presenting to him. Under her breath she muttered "ignorant bastard" barely registering that it was a serious playground faux pas. "Okay kids, let's go."

Both children looked in admiration at the curse as Melissa guided them all to the parking lot. "I'll drive Scott to yours Claud, we can have coffee while they play?"

Once at Stiles' house, they'd played together until teatime. Stiles was switching toys every few minutes and being much rougher with them than Scott was. The quiet boy didn't mind though, he was used to the erratic behaviour of his best friend and found it somewhat comforting. Miraculously, Stiles had sat still for half an hour to make a list of potential presents for Lydia. He'd decided on an Ariel doll and a big book, Claudia agreeing to the gifts.

It was when they sat down for dinner that things went wrong. Stiles had started reeling off everything he'd learned that day, almost a routine by now for the boy. He was about to bring up science class when his mother's hand slammed hard on the table, Melissa and Scott both jumping at the loud crash.

"Can you please just shut up for once? Please? I don't care how boring math was, I just don't." She pushed away from the table, walking into the living room and falling down onto the couch.

Stiles was left fighting tears, confused as to why his mother had been so harsh, so mean. He was soon pulled into Melissa's arms, the nurse whispering that his mother hadn't meant it, that it was just because she was sick. As much as he wanted to, Stiles didn't believe her. It had been so real, he just couldn't believe it was anything but the truth.

Still, he put on a smile, ever the strong one, knowing if he didn't he'd get more empty apologies.


	3. Chapter 3

It had started with the shouting, the screaming at little thimgs. Stiles and John would brush it off, father comforting his son by telling him it wasn't her, that she didn't know what she was doing, and Stiles would stay strong.

It was an afternoon in early March when she started confusing the meaning of words, getting muddled and distracted midway through sentences. Claudia and Stiles had been shopping in the mall, searching for a birthday present for Lydia. Everything had been going well, she hadn't yelled at anybody and a small part of Stiles thought she was getting better. That was until they went to pay for the doll. The cashier had smiled at the two, looking between the doll and Stiles.

"It's for a girl at school. Not that boys can't play with princesses but I like Barman don't I mommy?" He looked up to his mother who had been distracted by a commotion happening outside. "Mommy." He pulled on the hem of her skirt, desperate to gain her attention, to be reassured she was getting better.

The woman turned to the boy, nodding with barely any recognition. "Right, Barman." She looked to the cashier, eyes glazed over as she handed over a dollar bill.

"Sorry mam, this isn't enough, the doll is nineteen eighty nine." Stiles looked to his mother with wide eyes, watching as she looked to her wallet, her eyes still glazed. It terrified him, and he was certain he knew what was coming. Before she could get frustrated, Stiles reached up, pulling out a twenty and handing it over. That's when she said it, the five words that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

"Sorry, do I know you?" She looked to her wallet, turning to the cashier and putting a hand out to take the money back, all while Stiles struggled to hold off tears. "I don't know this boy, he just stole twenty dollars from me. I don't know this boy."

Watching her looking around, searching for help, it broke little Stiles' heart but he knew he had to stay strong. That was what hurt more, that he didn't have time to cry. His hands fumbled to find his emergency mobile, remembering what his father had told him, emergencies only. "Daddy you need to come to the toy store. Mommy doesn't know me."

It didn't take long after that for the sheriff to show up, quickly paying for the toy. When he caught sight of Claudia, his heart shattered. Her beautiful red locks had lost its shine, her chocolate eyes glazed and unrecognizing of the two of them. He knew this was almost it, that her best days were gone and she'd soon be gone with them, a fact both he and Stiles weren't ready to face.

"Claudia sweetheart, it's Stiles, honey it's Stiles your son." He hesitated before placing a hand gently over her shoulder, pulling out a family photo from his wallet. "See? It's your son."

She slowly started to nod, looking to the boy, still a little unfamiliar, but she trusted John. "Of course. I love you." She spoke through tears, letting him lead her to the car, the present for the pretty girl forgotten at the checkout.

They got home and things started to become normal, as normal as things could be anyway. Claudia would scream, Stiles would be strong and John would reward him with cookies. The forgotten doll however meant only one thing, he wouldn't go to the party. In fact, he started to not go to a lot of places, locking himself inside, hiding from his mother. Staying in his bedroom meant his mother didn't forget him, meant he was safe from the world.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I'm so sorry for not publishing at all but I completely lost motivation for writing recently. I'm trying hard to get back into the swing of it so expect a new one shot in the next few days as an apology for the lack of writing.

The day after the party, Stiles sat alone at lunch, Scott staying home after a bad asthma atack. He didn't mind being alone, knowing that if he was alone he couldn't bother anyone with his constant chatting. So when he saw a shadow across his lunchbox, he looked up, confused when he saw the pretty redhead. It had happened twice now in a small cluster of weeks and Stiles was completely thrown.

"You weren't at my party." She sounded mad, not an ounce of pity in her voice. Clearly missing her party had been a bigger deal than he'd thought. "Nobody missed my party. You said you'd be there and you weren't."

Stiles looked to her with complete shock on his face. He'd felt bad about not being there but he didn't think she'd be so upset with him about it. To her, he was nobody, just a dorky kid she had been forced to invite. "Sorry, my mom wasn't feeling good."

Rolling her eyes, Lydia leaned over to take a chunk of his cupcake before reaching into her own lunchbox and producing a pink napkin. "My mom said I had to bring you a slice of cake. Thank you for the princess doll. She's pretty."

With that, Lydia Martin was gone again, drifting away with a grace no other third grader possessed, leaving Stiles with one crucial question. How did she get the present?

After school, he questioned his father, the man just shrugging. "You were excited about her having it so I went back to the store yesterday." He couldn't help but hug him tightly, glad Lydia had a semblance of who he was. "It's okay kiddo. She's very pretty."

Stiles just smiled, happy to have this one moment with his father where there was no screaming, no sadness, just his dad and him. "I love you daddy. Even if mommy gets mad at you."

The moment was soon over, Claudia stumbling into the room. She wore old tattered sweats, her face clear of the bright red stuff she used to wear on her lips, her red hair devoid of its natural shine. The woman looked over the embrace, nudging past the two of them. "The boy needs to clean his room."

Sighing at the comment, John tapped Stiles' shoulder, nudging him upstairs. He took the stairs two at a time, sitting at the top of the stairs so he could watch the two of them. "Jesus John, I can't stand him anymore. I want him out of the house. He can go stay with my mom." John took her hand, squeezing it softly. He had made a rule not to get angry at her, knowing it was just her disease, nothing to do with her own feelings.

"Honey, your mom is in Poland, we can't send him there." Stiles watched as his mother pulled her hand back, his father catching her just before she could hit him. "Sweetheart please don't do that." She fought from his grasp, hitting him in the chest. That's when Stiles couldn't take it, the tiny eight year old running between them. He'd had enough. He didn't want to move with his grandmother, didn't want to lose his mother and he didn't want to see her hurting his dad. He felt the hand across his cheek before his father could move him out of the way, the space on his cheek stinging. That's when the screaming started. John told Stiles to go to bed, that he'd be up to tuck him in. With the screaming however, Stiles didn't sleep that night with the screaming. In fact, he didn't sleep most nights anymore. The rule had been broken. There was nothing but anger between them now.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I know I've been terrible at updates, I've just had a lot of uni work piling up but I promise I will be a better updater and try to at least get a one-shot out when I'm struggling with my multi-chapters. A big thank you to the people continuing to read and review even during long update breaks, it really inspires me to continue knowing people are out there viewing my stories. Anyone reading this gets a big virtual hug for putting up with me and I hope you enjoy the latest chapter :)

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When he woke the next day, his cheek was stinging, the pain searing his face like a hot poker. It wasn't so much the pain that hurt. He knew eventually the physical pain would go, but the knowledge that it was her who'd done it caused a pain that wouldn't wash with time. His own mother had hurt him, and no matter how much he told himself that it was her illness, he just didn't believe himself anymore. When the doctor had diagnosed her, she'd gone and she didn't want him anymore.

That's all he could think as he packed away his things. He grabbed his little league duffel bag, packing clothes and toys, all the things he would need when he left. The plan had occurred to him when he had thought over his mother's words, tossing around his head as he wriggled around in his bed. He would run away to Scott's house where Melissa would love him like a mother should. Obviously his father could visit and he would never have to see the shell his mother had become ever again. It was the perfect plan. Perfect that is, until his father came bursting into the room with a plate of pancakes, catching him in the middle of trying to fit his lightsabre into a bag half its size.

"Stiles, what's going on here?" John put the pancakes down, prying the lightsabre from Stiles' hands before leading him to sit on the bed. The boy sat reluctantly, wanting desperately to just run and leave but under his father's gaze, he knew he couldn't. However, the idea of admitting what was happening made him squirm. Although he loved him, his father could be terrifying at times. Instead of answering the question, he pursed his lips, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a particular gift the young boy had, to be evasive, something he was extremely proud of and that adults told him was completely annoying. "Come on buddy, you can talk to your old man." John's tone was soft which terrified Stiles more than it should have.

"Nope, it's nothing daddio. Uhm, well…" His eyes started to dart around the room, searching desperately for a convincing lie, which is when it hit him. He didn't have to lie, just omit certain truths from his confession. "I didn't tell you but Scott said I could go for a sleepover at his house. I'm sorry I didn't say. Can I go? Please?" He dragged the pleading out, making a hiss until his father held his hands up in surrender. Annoying people into submission was a special skill he'd managed to perfect over eight years. He'd created the perfect balance of annoyance, knowing how to push the right buttons but always careful not to push them too far.

"Right, so Scott's mom knows about this?" Stiles nodded quickly, eyes on the floor to avoid his father's gaze. "And if I call her now she'll know about this?" Again he nodded, a little less confident this time, pretty sure he knew where this was going. Under his father's gaze, Stiles couldn't keep up the lie, terrified of what would happen if he continued to avoid the truth. Slowly, he began to shake his head, moving to his feet to pace the length of the room, too nervous to sit.

"I wanted to run away." He confessed the truth almost silently, barely able to bring himself to think about it. His eyes remained glued to the floor, his feet stopping from their nervous movement the second the words left his lips. Running away had been a terrible solution, he realised that much now as he carefully darted his eyes towards his father, the man who he'd looked up to all his life who was now looking down at him with tears in his eyes. One thing Stiles prided himself on was that his father never cried, even when he'd seen him scared or hurt, he'd never seen his father crying. So as John watched on with tears in his eyes, Stiles couldn't help but feel like the one to blame. "I'm sorry. Mommy didn't want me so I thought you and her would be happier without me and Scotty always wanted a big brother. I don't like mommy anymore and you shouldn't either daddio. You can come with me!"

John let his lips lift in the corner, showing his son he wasn't angry but his words were making him think. Maybe it would be better for the both of them if Claudia wasn't around. As important as it was for Stiles to spend as much time as possible with her, it wasn't helping his development that Claudia was taking her anger out on their son. "How about you eat your pancakes while I call Melissa and see if you can stay for a few nights? Does that sound okay?"

Stiles nodded, liking the idea of being away for a few days. Being away from his mother would be good for him, would give him a chance to be himself and not have to worry about angering anybody. He looked over at the plate, contemplating stuffing all three of the pancakes into his mouth but he thought better of it, knowing that his father would only give him a lecture about pacing his food intake. He took a bite out of the first pancake, a pit in his stomach as he did. Suddenly he wasn't very hungry anymore, even with the problem resolved. He couldn't help but feel just a little guilty at abandoning his mother. "Pops, will she be okay?" He looked up, wide eyed as he nibbled on the pancake, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable.

At the question, John sighed, putting the phone down to sit by his son. They'd promised no lying, but seeing him so afraid, it made his heart sink. "Stiles, they're going to do everything they can. But sometimes Mommy isn't going to be the same person. Some days will be tough but we'll be okay, we're Stilinski men. And what are we?"

"We're a team." Stiles was hesitant as he gave his answer, relaxing his features into a soft smile, despite still feeling the guilt. It was a mask he was used to wearing ever since the diagnosis. "Okay, I'm gonna keep packing, can you call Ms McCall?" He waited for his father to leave before dropping the smile again, stuffing toys into the bag. The tears sprung to his eyes before he could stop them, falling silently, another skill that he had adopted since the diagnosis. He tried to gather his breath, struggling as the pit grew ten times larger than it had been before. His legs buckled beneath him as the weight hit him, like a train slamming repeatedly into his chest. He was terrified, gasping for breath as he reached around blind for his inhaler. When he finally grabbed it, he inhaled the medicine deeply, the weight lifting as he did. It was a solution but he knew deep down it hadn't been an asthma attack. This was something new and this something was much, much worse.


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